The tension in my body channels down to my fingertips. They crack and creak. I wish I could crack something else. I wish I could crack that bastard's skull with my bare hands. I want to watch the last bit of life drain from his eyes. He should have already had his last breath.
“I know exactly how you feel. You’ve never supported this in the least. I’m sure it makes you feel vindicated in your opinions. Well done.”
“Tristan, that was a cruel thing to say.”
She’s right. It was cruel. This is why I asked her to leave in the first place. I don’t trust myself around humans today. I have this hatred and rage in my soul that is only consuming me by the second. I don’t want to hurt her. She is a constant source of knowledge, companionship, and family. My mother is glad I have Anna near me since I’m a continent away from her, especially for days like today. “Tristan. You need to stop torturing yourself.”
“How can I smile when she’s still gone? When he’s still walking free like he didn’t do anything wrong?” I finally turn to face her. “How can you even begin to understand what I’m feeling? You can’t.” I instantly get this wave of silent panic. I need it to stop. “Anna, I don’t want to have this discussion. You’ve seen what happens when I end up too involved. I get lost.”
“Is that what you think happened?”
My panic begins to finally bubble outward toward the only thing in it. “I was too involved in my work. I was too involved in getting ahead. I was too involved in the…” I pause as I feel a sense of heat rush to my cheeks. I’m never embarrassed to talk about sex. I love sex. I think it’s one of the best things in life. It is life in many aspects. In the last couple of years, it’s been about escape.
“Mon fils, Raissa died that day. Not you. She didn’t want to leave you. It wasn’t her choice. It wasn’t your choice. I know choices that settle outside of yourself are difficult for you. This is one of those things.”
“I’d trade with her in a heartbeat,” I yell. “I would. If I could take it back, I’d gladly go in her place.”
“I know you would. I know but that wasn’t the plan set out for you or for her. She was called for something greater. Your work wasn’t finished.”
My fist pounds my chest. “I’ve felt finished since the moment I knew she was gone. Everything has felt hollow. I don’t cry enough but when I do, it feels like I’ll never stop. I’m angry all the time. I’ll paint and paint, then slash the canvas to ribbons in rage. Most of my smiles are fake, when I even have them.”
Her hand gently cups my cheek. “All of what you describe is called grief, Tristan. You weren’t twins but might as well have been for how you sensed one another. When she was sad, you’d show up for her because you felt it. When she got accepted to Columbia, who was the first one she called? You. She was your shadow and your muse. You have a pain so deep only a few people will understand.”
“You said I showed up for her? Really? I fucked that up and it was too late. I couldn’t take anything back. It’s my fault.”
“It’s your fault? Tristan, I don’t ever want to hear you say that out loud again. Do you hear me? It would not only hurt your mother to hear it, but I know Raissa would not stand for the wealth of guilt you’re laying on yourself.”
“Facts are bloody facts, Anna.”
“Yes, let’s look at the facts, shall we? Have you suddenly acquired infinite power to control illness? Have you found a cure for cancer? If you have then I’d like to see it. How will continually going after him going to serve you? It won’t bring her back, Tristan.”
My eyes sweep up to meet hers. I’ve never felt anything other than admiration and love for the woman before me until now. At this moment, she is the cruelest person I could possibly imagine in human form. “I’m painfully aware it won’t bring her back. I can’t fucking believe you said that to me.”
I take two very uncoordinated steps backward to turn and leave my office. “Tristan Sloane. Don’t you dare leave this conversation.” She rarely uses a parental tone with me, however now that she has, it sends a clear message for me to stop in my path, even if I can’t look at her directly.
I can feel her hand sliding over the top of my shoulder as I hang my head down. I’ve been relegated to that of a child in an instant. It’s amazing how that can happen given the right circumstances. “I’m so sorry I said what I did. Will you forgive me?”
I want so badly to stay angry at her. It would be nice to have a place to lay that anger down, but I can’t. I never could. I clutch her delicate digits in mine. “Forgiven.” I lean my cheek over and stroke it once across the back of her hand.
The pain is not only now in my head and soul but it’s becoming a physical manifestation. My heart is pounding into my ears. I’m finding it increasingly hard to take a full breath. I need to get out of here and seek sanctuary in the one place, whatever happens especially today, will be just between me and the canvas.
“If you need me to take your classes tomorrow, I’ll be ready,” she says, and I lean in to kiss her cheek.
Taking her hands in mine, I draw the backs to my lips in my own way of telling her I will call and thank you.
I should have just told her to take them. I have a feeling this night will be worse than last year. I have a different feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When she leaves me there to finish her day, the feeling only intensifies.
I know what tonight will contain. The only difference is I feel this need to be close to Nora. Only Nora. I can lie to myself all that I want and pretend I am going to ask her to stop by so I can offer her the TA position, but I know the truth deep down.
I just want to be in her presence. It’s calming.
And so… I pull out my phone, and send her an email.
Nora – come by my office as soon as possible.
Chapter 7
Nora
I sat and stared at the email on my school account for an hour before making the decision to come back to campus to meet him. I have zero idea why he’d need to see me so late, unless it’s about the TA position. Part of me wishes that’s not what it’s about and part of me does. It would be much easier to stay in the academic lane. However, I’m not sure how I would feel or handle it if that’s all it was.
The south building where his office resides is completely deserted. I wind his floor from left to right and back again, just to make sure. I don’t want someone walking in on us again just in case. When I get to his office, I don’t hear a single noise from inside. There is a dim light radiating from the crack at the base of the door. I stand in front of the frosted glass, debating still if I should knock or run. Just as I’m about to decide, the sound of glass shattering forces my hand. I open the door without knocking.
Professor Sloane is slouched in his chair with his hand holding his head, his elbow is barely perched on the arm. There is a broken tumbler just at his side in a small pool of liquid. I quickly determine what liquid as my eyes clock an open, half-empty bottle of bourbon in the middle of his desk.
“Professor? Hey.” I kneel down at his side. My fingers slide instinctively over his pulse to make sure he’s okay.